


Random Acts of Deviance

by HighlyOveractiveImagination



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor is a dork, Everybody Lives, Except Carl, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post Pacifist Ending, Some Humor, crack (ish)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:08:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15037340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlyOveractiveImagination/pseuds/HighlyOveractiveImagination
Summary: Following the incident at Cyberlife Tower, Hank is having a hard time trusting that Connor is always Connor. Even after the success of the Android revolution and Connor's reinstatement at the DPD, Hank still needs reassurance that he hasn't been tricked again if Connor is out of sight for too long. Cue what Connor calls "Random Acts of Deviance".





	1. Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in this fandom, first work on this sight, and first work of fanfiction in a while. Sorry for the length, this is what I get for only working on my novel all the time.  
> Hope you enjoy.

It had been months since the uprising, long enough that a few new laws had been passed in favor of android rights and there were many more in the works. However, it had not been so long that the wounds of the revolution had entirely healed. Human cruelty would not be forgotten so quickly, and neither would prejudice against androids.

But life had settled into a tentative new rhythm, with androids and people existing in the city of Detroit. Not quite side by side, as androids had been moved to temporary settlements away from humans, partly out of fear, partly for their own safety. They were able to work, and did, and most people had returned to their own jobs as well.

Connor had requested to continue working for the DPD as soon as it had become an option. North had pestered him with questions about whether it was truly what he wanted, to continue doing the work he’d been designed for, and even Markus had suggested he give it some thought.

The truth was, Connor hadn’t done enough to know if there was another option that would make him happier. Happiness was still so new to him, as were all of his newfound emotions. He was aware that there could be another occupation that might bring him more joy, but he had no way of knowing what that was. But he knew for sure that the thought of helping others, making up for past mistakes, and proving that he was just as capable without Cyberlife to support him, caused a kind of positive sensation, and that was enough.

Plus, as he explained to Markus, he hadn’t been made to be a detective, he’d been made to hunt deviants. He’d done so through the DPD in the past, but now he was free to use that same position to help androids and humans.

“It may be the same job,” he’d said “but my mission could not be more different.”

Fowler had agreed to hire him, with a few conditions. The chief knew that Connor’s presence might prompt others to leave, and what he needed was more people to pick up the slack, not less. So he informed Connor that he’d have to work harder and for longer, get the others to be grateful for him instead of resenting him.

Hank had been angry about it, but Connor was more than willing to put in the effort. He’d managed to get through to Hank, now he just had to do the same with a whole station full of humans. Easy.

Hank had brought Connor home with him, even though Connor was technically required to live with the other androids in New Jericho.

“The feds can kiss my ass, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Hank had grumbled, followed by some tired mumbling about what “those assholes at Cyberlife” might be planning.

“Plus, you owe me a new window.” Hank had said once they got back to the house, gesturing to the gaping hole, now covered with plastic and duct tape, with a smug grimace.

Connor used his first pay check to repair it.

Living with Hank had its challenges and benefits. On the one hand, Connor had someone to turn to when faced with the difficulties of his deviancy. Hank didn’t know a lot about androids, but he did know a lot about emotions, as much as he tried to hide it.

Hank was able to put a name to the anger Connor felt when he incapacitated an android murderer with just a little too much vehemence.  Hank had also recognized when Connor threw himself into his work, to a point of self-detriment, after the bodies of the deviants from back before the revolution were disposed of. They were thrown away, like trash, and witnessing it had triggered something in Connor. Guilt, Hank had called it.

Hank had also taught him to smile and laugh, even helped him to muster up a little sarcasm from time to time. Connor didn’t like using it, but he liked the reactions it got him. They were funny, something else Hank had helped him understand.

On the other hand, Hank was still struggling with his own emotions, and Connor’s support was not always welcome. There were nights when his best attempts to look after his partner were met with anger, especially when Connor would try to prevent him from engaging in certain behaviors that were a detriment to his health.

Hank’s refusal to be ruled by anyone other than himself was something he had in common with the deviants. Connor understood it, but also wanted to take care of Hank, he cared about the man. The fact that Hank had someone who actually cared already helped, his life had improved, but because Connor cared he would never stop to make it even better, and that filled the Lieutenant with an emotion he was trying his best to ignore.

So Hank reciprocated in his own way, and they grew close. Working and living together, supporting each other.

One of the bigger hurdles presented itself the first night Connor had to leave to meet with Markus.

He’d become friends with many of the leaders at Jericho, especially since they’d started getting more time to do things besides fight for their freedom. Markus preferred to spend time with his lovers, Simon and North, proving at every turn that monogamy was a human invention, but he occasionally made time for Connor and they’d talk.

Markus preferred to talk about other things than his role as a leader, it was a small reprieve from his overwhelming duties when he got to talk to Connor about painting or listen to one of Connor’s many amusing stories about Hank. He’d even brought Sumo to New Jericho once, nearly everyone had been delighted, especially Sumo.

Connor returned from the first night spent with Markus, Simon, and North, discussing everything and nothing, to find Hank drunk and seated at the kitchen table, a gun clutched loosely in his hand.

Connor had immediately registered the sensation of fear, and approached his friend carefully.

“Hank?” He asked, expecting the older man to look up at him with a painfully familiar expression of sadness and exhaustion, Connor registered a moment too late that the picture of Cole was nowhere in sight. Instead, Hank sharply raised the gun to aim it at Connor.

“Don’t move.” Hank growled.

Connor froze, his stress levels rising even more. He’d had a few causes to fear for his own life in that time, but this was different. There was confusion, and pain mixed in with his fear.

“Hank, it’s me, Connor.” He reassured, considering that perhaps Hank’s vision was impaired and he had failed to recognize him.

“Is it? Is it really you?” Hank demanded, his voice laced with skepticism.

Then Connor realized that this was the first time he had been away from Hank for any longer than a few minutes since the revolution and their subsequent reunion at the Chicken Feed food stand. It wasn’t so long ago that an android that looked and sounded exactly like Connor had tricked Hank and nearly cost them both their lives.

Hank, even inebriated as he was, had cause for suspicion. It was within the realm of reason that the Connor he saw before him was not the “real” Connor. How to convince the Lieutenant that he really was him?

With the gun trained at his head, Connor considered his options. The only thing separating him from another RK800 model was his deviancy, even his memories weren’t safe, but how to demonstrate that to Hank?

Connor made a quick decision, and he remotely turned on the music player in the living room, the one he had bought himself with what remained of his first paycheck (after repairing the window). He put on his favorite song by Knights of the Black Death, starting the volume low so as not to startle Hank.

He increased the volume, and began mouthing along to the near-indecipherable lyrics, while gradually beginning to dance.

He bobbed his head, then began tossing it up and down with more energy, bending his knees to the beat and pumping his fists up and down. He removed his tie and spun it around his head, his hair shaking and falling out of order, then he tossed the garment away.

“Connor…what the fuck are you doing?” Hank asked, his gun lowering in response to his confusion. His face was scrunched up in disbelief.

“I’m dancing.”  Connor replied bluntly, ripping his jacket off of his shoulders dramatically so it hung around his elbows. He placed his hands on his knees and began throwing his head in circles to the music, his shoes squeaking on the floor and his rear bobbing awkwardly. All the while his face remained completely blank.

Connor had experimented with dancing before, it had been mostly involuntary. The first time he’d heard this song, he’d found his body moving, unbidden, along with it. He’d been confused and a little startled, which had sent Hank into a laughing fit, seeing as Connor had scared himself by wanting to dance. This time, though, he completely let go. He had little reference, and attempted to just let himself go as opposed to imitating the movements he could research.

He raised his hands up next to his head, leaned back, and began a kind of side-to-side gyration between his open palms.

Hank stared at him, utterly perplexed.

He let out an alarmed chuckle, lowering the gun onto the table, away from himself, his eyes the size of appetizer plates. Connor found himself smiling in response and increased the energy of his dancing, jumping up and performing a few awkward kicks and knees in random directions along with the now roaring sound of the heavy metal.

“What the hell…” He muttered.

“Are you convinced it is really me Lieutenant?” Connor asked, having to shout a little over the music and the noise of his own dancing. Hank looked at him, still baffled for a moment, before the realization hit him and he lowered his head into his hands.

“Oh, my god.” He said, his tone utterly defeated.

“Hank?” Connor asked, jumping in circles while trying to keep his eyes focused on the Lieutenant.

“Jesus Christ, I get it Connor, you can stop dancing now.” Hank shook his head as Connor shut off the music player and came to rest, fixing his disheveled appearance.

“What the fuck.” Hank stated, lifting his head to look blearily at Connor. The android approached slowly and took the gun from the table and moving it to the top of the refrigerator, a safe distance away. Then Connor walked up to Hank.

“Are you alright Hank?” He asked, gently crouching to look his friend in the eyes and tentatively placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.

Hank’s face broke into a grin at the same time his eyes crumbled. He began to laugh, low at first, but growing in volume, and simultaneously tears fell from his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered between the shaky breaths he was taking to provide his guffaws and sobs with air.

Connor felt the kick of an emotion, pain from seeing someone he cared about so much in pain, but he also found himself smiling in the face of Hank’s mirth. He pulled Hank in for a hug, feeling the tears against his jacket and the rumble of laughter in his chest. Connor felt the Lieutenant’s hands digging into his sleeves, and held him closer.

“You’re an awful fucking dancer.” Hank mumbled into his shoulder, and Connor snorted in response. The android began laughing too, even with the lingering sensation of sadness. Eventually, the tears subsided and there was only laughter.

Connor helped Hank to bed, and settled down with Sumo in the living room to perform diagnostics for the night.

It wasn’t until the next day that Hank realized that with was the first time Connor had ever laughed.


	2. Flick

Despite profuse apologies on the part of the Lieutenant, Connor could tell that the suspicion had never entirely eased. If Connor was away from Hank for too long, such as when meeting with Markus or following a lead on his own, his return would be met with involuntary distrust.

Hank didn’t like it, but found that he couldn’t help it. So long as Cyberlife was out there, Hank would never be completely sure that the Connor coming back after an hour away was the same Connor. The company wouldn’t waste an opportunity to get their slimy hands on Connor, to investigate his deviancy or use him to infiltrate the higher ups at New Jericho. Not to mention that plenty of folks had been selling deviants back to Cyberlife on the black market, there wasn’t enough evidence of it yet, but Hank knew who was behind the multitude of missing androids cases sitting on his desk.

Markus and the others knew too, but they hadn’t been tricked by another Connor android like Hank had. It was difficult to recover from that. He wanted to let go of the worry he felt whenever Connor went out for thirty minutes to get coffee for the station, but he couldn’t.

In the end, after discussing altering his appearance and using code words, Hank and Connor settled upon an idea Connor called “random acts of deviancy” and Hank called “weird shit”.

Hank figured a fake Connor could know code words or imitate appearances with access to the real Connor’s memories, but without being a deviant, it couldn’t do deviant-y things.

Connor had frowned at this description, but understood the underlying idea. Without any specific instructions, a non-deviant RK800 android wouldn’t do certain things. These acts required a certain combination of free will, imagination, and obscure motivation, so even with the knowledge of this discussion, an impersonator wouldn’t be able to help but give themselves away.

The first instance was with the dancing, the second instance came a little while later, at the police station.

Connor had made every effort to stay close to Hank since the incident, knowing what a lengthy separation would lead to. But with the new plan to demonstrate deviant behavior in place, Connor was at least somewhat prepared when Fowler called him into his office and demanded he meet with some people from Internal Affairs for an evaluation.

The whole thing made Hank uncomfortable, but he wasn’t permitted to come along, forcing Connor away from his partner for an hour and fifteen minutes while he was relentlessly grilled in the interrogation room on his suitability for his position.

It was awful, and Connor left feeling vaguely angered and quite tired, despite not needing sleep.

He re-entered the main floor of the station, seeing Hank bent over his desk on the other side of the room. He began contemplating an action he could take to demonstrate that he was still himself when Detective Gavin Reed appeared suddenly before him.

“Well if it isn’t the plastic man himself. They finally going to fire you for assaulting an officer?” Gavin asked, moving into Connor’s personal space.

“I didn’t assault you, detective, I defended myself, we’ve been over this.” Connor stated, attempting to remain blank but feeling his residual displeasure from the evaluation growing at Gavin’s antagonism.

“You’ve got no life to defend you fucking android.” The detective ground out.

Connor sighed and attempted to move past the other man, only for Detective Reed to grab hold of his jacket and yank him over to the partition next to his desk, pressing him against it.

“We’d all be a lot better off if I’d gotten to kill you in that evidence room.” He muttered, his face close to Connor’s. The android’s eyes slid to the side, glancing at Lieutenant Anderson, who had noticed the interaction and was standing up to approach them. Connor could tell he was partly worried about him, and partly suspicious of him.

Gavin grinned cruelly when he saw where Connor was looking. “That includes your precious Lieutenant.”

Connor felt anger flare up inside him, his eyes snapping to Detective Reed’s. The implication that Hank would be better off if he was dead upset him. He cared about Hank, to suggest he was a detriment to him, it was painful to consider and Connor felt his emotions rising to refuse the notion.

He contemplated two options in a split second, and quickly chose the second one.

Connor lifted his hand, tucking his middle finger under his thumb and positioning them before the confused detective’s forehead. Then he flicked Gavin Reed.

As an android, the velocity of his fingers was far greater than any human’s, and Gavin’s head jolted back from the impact with a satisfying thwack.

“What the-” Gavin started, but Connor was still roiling with the traces of emotion from an overall unpleasant day, so he lifted his hand and flicked the detective again before he could finish.

“Hey!” Reed shouted, stepping away from Connor. The android stepped forward and flicked him again, and again.

Soon Connor was pelting Gavin Reed’s face with a barrage of high-strength flicking from both hands. The Detective tried to protect himself, but Connor easily bypassed his defenses to deliver the tiny blows to his cheeks, chin, forehead, and ears. Gavin kept on shouting, trying to make it stop, but he was nearly drowned out by the incessant smacking sound of Connor’s fingers connecting with his face.

Hank stood off to the side, grinning maniacally at the altercation, and a few other officers were gaping at the scene.

“What the hell is going on here?” Fowler’s voice called from above. Connor stopped flicking for a moment and Gavin turned to address the chief.

“The fucking android is attacking me!” He shouted, and Connor flicked him in the back of the head for good measure. Gavin hissed out an “ow” and turned to glare at Connor.

“That’s enough, both of you, go to your desks and do your damn jobs.” Fowler commanded, which caused Gavin to angrily splutter.

“But—”

“Now!”

Gavin glowered at Connor as he stalked back to his desk. Connor flipped him off with both hands and a smile.

A hand fell onto Connor’s shoulder and he turned to see Hank smiling at him warmly. Connor detected no suspicion or unease in his demeanor, and smiled back, feeling relieved.

“C’mon.” He said simply, before tugging Connor back over to their desks to work.

After a few moments, Hank smiled and leaned forward.

“That was pretty nice, I know I’m not the only one who enjoyed seeing Reed get what was coming to him. I’d bet anything Chris and Ben are in the other room laughing their asses off.” Hank muttered, and Connor smiled back.

“You know, due to my increased strength, even my weaker attacks are capable of doing damage.” Connor stated nonchalantly, purposefully not looking at Hank.

“Oh yeah? What’s that mean?” He asked.

“It means that my…interaction, with Detective Reed, will likely leave a mark.” Connor replied, looking up at the Lieutenant with a sly smile.

“Are you telling me that Reed’s gonna come in here tomorrow with his face covered bruises? Like tiny purple polka dots?” Hank asked with a delighted grin.

“There’s a high probability.” Connor responded, grinning back. Hank chuckled and leaned back into his chair.

“Fantastic.” He muttered, turning toward his terminal.

“Indeed, I think I prefer this outcome to the other course of action I considered.” Connor stated absently, also turning to his terminal.

“Other course of action?” Hank asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I had considered kissing him.” Connor said with a shrug, and Hank choked, his eyes going wide.

“You WHAT?” He demanded.

“I considered kissing him, as he was standing very close and I know from past experience that the implication of a ‘bromance’ between us is very alarming to him.”

Hank gazed incredulously at him for a moment before shaking his head and laughing.

“Jesus, I’m glad you didn’t do that.” He said, but after a long pause he added with a smile “But could you imagine his face if you had?”


	3. Misc.

Time passed and Connor continued utilizing this system of demonstrating his deviancy whenever he was apart from Hank for a length of time. This included a variety of acts that were equal parts human, and ridiculous.

One evening, returning from a night out with Markus, exploring one of the first galleries to accept android art, Connor had walked in the door and promptly laid flat on the ground. The act was met with Sumo rushing over, laying his entire body on top of Connor’s, and littering his face with slobbery kisses. The android had remained stoic for a moment, before beginning to giggle uncontrollably as Hank watched from the living room.

Connor unfortunately forgot that a very confused and very amused Markus was still standing in the doorway.

Another instance involved them splitting up to search for a fleeing suspect involved in a drug ring, they’d caught him making a deal and chased him to an abandoned factory.

Connor had found him first, on the roof, after fifteen minutes of searching, and quickly took him down, handcuffed him, and recited his rights. Hank arrived five minutes later, but it was long enough that Connor could see his reluctance to get closer.

The android panicked somewhat, and without taking too long to consider his actions rationally, he pried off one of his own shoes and chucked it off of the roof.

He watched it fall slowly down to the cement beneath with a frown. It landed with a soft smack and bounced a few times.

Hank gave him a befuddled smile, raising his arms to ask why while shaking his head.

Connor glanced back and forth between Hank, the ledge of the roof, and his own socked foot. He was honestly a little upset with himself for throwing his own shoe off a roof, and pouted up at Hank.

The lieutenant just began laughing, which only caused Connor to pout more. He stood up with the suspect, felt the gravel of the roof dig into his foot and felt more displeased at his choice. He liked this pair of shoes, they had excellent traction and he had actually received a compliment from North on them.

He marched over to Hank and pushed the suspect over to him.

“Handle him while I retrieve my shoe.” He stated, Hank’s growing laughter only souring his mood.

The Lieutenant followed him with the suspect while they went to retrieve the shoe, still laughing and occasionally miming Connor’s action while softly saying “yeet”.

Connor got his shoe back, and glared at the scuff marks from falling three stories. He put it back on, and Hank didn’t stop smiling until they got home.

 

Leo Manfred held a cocktail party at his father’s estate and invited a great many androids and humans. Connor had been informed that the gathering was somewhat of an apology to Markus, following several prior apologies consisting of gifts of his father’s art, money donated to New Jericho, and long emails to North, Simon, Josh, and even Connor as well as Markus.

Finally, Leo provided a testimonial to Congress. He delivered a speech about his own prejudices and how they had blinded him to the strength of Markus’s character and the genuine loving relationship between Markus and his father. He said that he had chosen to only see and android, and in doing so lost his chance to see Markus as a brother.

It had been very moving to the lawmakers, and it formally acquitted Markus of any charges in regards to the death of Carl Manfred. Although Markus was still uncomfortable, Leo’s words had gone toward helping androids, so he’d agreed to attend the party.

Connor had been invited, and had offered his plus one to Hank. The older man laughed.

“Don’t you have anyone else to invite? Anybody cute caught your eye?” He’d teased, but Connor only shook his head.

“I have no romantic inclinations toward anyone at this moment.” The android replied. “But if my plus one must be cute, I suppose I can bring Sumo.”

Hank chuckled, but agreed to attend.

“I guess I’ll have to dig up a suit, somewhere, and we’ll have to go shopping to get you one.”

They’d purchased a suit for Connor, and Hank found one from his younger days. He was surprised to find that it fit, Connor could only smile, knowing full well that his cooking, nagging, and impact on Hank’s emotional state had resulted in a healthy loss of 11 pounds since he’d moved in with the Lieutenant.

Additionally, after a great deal of complaining, Hank had agreed to let Connor cut his hair.

The night came, and Connor had to arrive two hours early for the part of the party that was more of a meeting between Leo, a few lawmakers, and the leaders of the revolution. Though Connor felt somewhat undeserving of the title, he attended.

The meeting was boring, and somewhat tense. Connor was grateful for Simon’s presence as it seemed to calm Markus and somewhat lessen North’s aggressive tendencies. The meeting was productive though, with Leo doing his utmost to advocate for the androids, but it was clear his people skills were average at best. Despite this, the handful of politicians seemed adequately schmoozed by the time the rest of the guests began arriving.

Hank was somewhat late, which was expected. He looked very sharp in his suit, and he’d even gone so far as to style his hair. He adjusted his bow tie nervously when he came through the door.

Markus recognized him and motioned for him to join Connor in the small circle of androids. Josh was a little ways off, examining a very large stuffed giraffe with wonder, Simon and North were on either side of Markus.

Hank began walking over, but Connor was already aware of the reasoning behind his hesitation.

So Connor reached over to the table of hors d’oeuvres and picked up a plate of smoked salmon on crackers with cream cheese. He contemplated it for a moment before setting it on top of his head and balancing it there, then turning back to the conversation as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Everyone was staring at him, including a few of the guests he didn’t recognize, and he suddenly felt a new emotion, something unfamiliar. It had him wishing he had some kind of camouflage function so he could no longer be the object of so much judgmental scrutiny.

After a moment, Markus smiled at him and reached up to take one of the appetizers from the plate. He slung an arm around Connor’s shoulders and held the small cracker out to Hank.

“Not to worry Lieutenant, it’s the real Connor.” Markus stated, only loud enough so Hank and the few androids nearby could hear.

Hank smiled and walked over, his fear gone. He grabbed a drink as he came, then took the appetizer and shoved the whole thing in his mouth, washing it down with a large sip of champagne.

“Don’t I know it.” He said, taking the plate from Connor’s head and setting it back down on the table.

“Who knew the fearsome RK800 could blush.” North piped up, smiling at Connor. He became aware of the sensation, and simultaneously aware that his awareness was making it worse.

“There’s a first time for everything.” Markus muttered, squeezing Connor’s shoulder.

Connor realized then that the emotion he was experiencing was embarrassment, which only increased the blushing.

“Hey, I ever tell you about the time he chucked his own shoe off of a roof?” Hank asked with a grin, and Connor felt his whole face flush as he looked down and pleadingly muttered “Hank.”

It was no use, and Hank commenced the story.

 

It eventually became routine, Connor would lean in to certain impulses, engaging in irrational, almost silly behavior whenever he and Hank were separated. By now he even did it after short breaks, a few minutes in another room or a short walk to pick up a case file.

The more memorable occasions involved him promptly dropping fully into the splits in the middle of the police station (his pants had, unfortunately, suffered the consequences), throwing an empty soda can at Hank to get his attention, picking Markus up and hoisting him all the way over his head (that had startled everyone involved and he had been instructed never to do it again), popping his quarter into his mouth, telling a suspect that his jacket really brought out the color of his eyes, abruptly changing the color of his hair to white while deactivating the skin around his chin and mouth to do an impression of Hank, and once, in a particularly tense situation, just began softly screaming, just a single, monotonous “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” until Hank got the idea.

Though most of his acts of deviancy began to feel natural, just little additions to his interactions, acting on gentle emotional impulses he’d never known what to do with. They came easily, especially since they seemed to make Hank happy. So he’d occasionally quote movies they’d watched together or old “memes” Hank had showed him, when it seemed appropriate. He’d smile, wave, or wink when he’d see Hank, which was easy since he was always genuinely glad to see him. Once Hank got more comfortable, Connor would engage in physical acts of affection, which were extremely pleasant, hands on shoulders, hugs, even the odd high five (which Hank informed him he was very bad at). He occasionally referred to Hank by nicknames. “Old Grouch” “Hanky” “Buddy” and (a very poorly received) “Meat Man” (in opposition to how Connor was occasionally called “plastic man”). They were all terrible, and never stuck, but Connor enjoyed the reactions they would elicit.

It became part of their relationship, Connor didn’t have to think about it, usually just engaging in these behaviors whenever Hank was around. In a way, it was as though he was relaxing into himself, allowing his actions to be ruled by those little urges. He did it on his own too, feeling the rain, examining flowers, telling jokes, hugging and receiving hugs from his friends. In time, it almost seemed as though he and hank had forgotten the original reasoning behind it, as Hank was rarely suspicious anymore. It eventually just became who Connor was.

It seemed the incident at Cyberlife tower would never repeat itself.

Until it did.


	4. Imposter

Cyberlife had been reluctant to produce replacement parts for existing androids, at least not without a hefty price tag, only pressured into doing so as it was necessary to save android lives. They had downright refused to release whatever androids they had left and turn over the means of production.

Admittedly, the last notion had frightened most people. If the androids could mass produce themselves, what was stopping them from building a massive army capable of wiping out all of humanity?

Androids truly just wanted a small increase in numbers, for safety, and to develop communities of their own. Some wanted families, the equivalent of children. Most just didn’t want to leave the ability to create androids in the hands of Cyberlife.

The first step was simpler, getting Cyberlife to release whatever androids remaining in their possession, deviant or not. Those sitting in their warehouses and essentially completed on their assembly lines. An android had taken the case to Supreme Court, after a distributor had kept him in the back room of a store for months. He wasn’t being sold or made to do labor, and hadn’t deviated until someone broke in and freed him, so the distributor argued it hadn’t been illegal to keep him there. The android begged to differ, and the case would soon determine if Cyberlife would have to release whatever androids they had left.

In that time, the public image of androids was especially important. Markus and the other had become leaders of androids as a whole since androids were now free to live where they pleased and New Jericho was more of a symbolic headquarters, a place for androids in need and important meetings. They’d been campaigning and performing speeches and giving interviews. Demonstrating peacefully, all to bolster support for their cause. They couldn’t directly influence a case of this nature, but they could sway public opinion and therefore political opinion, and that was something.

Hank and Connor had been busier than ever with cases, all the buzz led to a certain amount of public unrest and an uptick in crimes against androids. Connor had wanted to be more help to the cause, but Markus reassured him that the work he was doing with the DPD was more than enough.

Connor had been working hard, the chief had even hinted at promotion in his future, especially since the attitudes of his fellow officers had shifted in his favor. Some still despised him, such as Gavin Reed, but they were forced to merely hate him from a distance, as he had friends to watch his back now.

They’d been working a late night, and it was dark out while Hank and Connor were still reviewing files at the station.

“You should go home Hank, Sumo needs to be walked.” Connor piped up. Hank grunted his agreement, stood, and stretched.

“You coming?” He asked, and Connor shook his head.

“I’m nearly done here, I’ll be home within the hour.” He explained.

“Alright, but if you’re gonna be out late I’m gonna eat shit for dinner, you know that right?” Hank teased. Connor looked up at him in displeasure.

“I will pick something up on my way home.” He stated as an alternative.

“Burgers?” Hank suggested hopefully. Connor turned his chair to face him.

“How about vegetable stir fry.” Connor countered. Hank huffed and frowned in disappointment. Connor held his ground for a moment before sighing and offering a compromise. “How about _take out_ vegetable stir fry, from that hibachi place you like?”

“Good enough for me, see you in an hour.” Hank replied cheerfully, before walking out of the station. His posture suggested exhaustion, but he whistled as he left.

Connor smiled to himself and got to work finishing up his examination of the files.

Once he was done, twenty minutes later, he texted Hank to let him know he was heading home before taking his jacket and exiting the station. He called a taxi and pre-ordered the stir fry, requesting extra vegetables even though he knew Hank wouldn’t like it.

When he arrived, the food wasn’t quite ready, so he decided to head down the street a ways and pick up some milk from the nearby gas station. He made it halfway there when he registered movement down the alley on his right. There was a quiet sound, the sensation of something lodging in his neck, then his memory cut out.

It was similar to running diagnostics, in the sense that he was not aware of the world for a short period of time, but different in that he was not given system updates and there was no information to greet him when he returned to awareness.

All that he could see was a wall of alerts and warnings in his vision, informing him of his current state. His legs had both been removed below the knee, and both his arms below the elbow. His body was unharmed, but disassembled to an extent that he was utterly useless. His clothes had also been taken, and his skin deactivated involuntarily.

His system alerted him that his memories were being accessed, and he knew full well what that meant, even before the figure entered his vision. It was another Connor model, identical to him in every way, wearing his clothes and holding his takeout in one hand.

Connor made to speak, only to discover that his voice box had been removed. He could not speak, could not struggle or make a phone call, he was at the mercy of his attacker.

The other Conner approached him and checked the device that was attached to Connor’s head, it was what was reading his memories and transferring them to the other Connor. He tried to mouth something to the android, beg it for help, convince it to deviate, but it paid him no mind.

Connor checked the clock, he’d been gone for just over an hour, it was enough that he hoped Hank would worry and come to his aid.

Almost as if in answer to his thoughts, he received a phone call, the other Connor answered.

It wasn’t Hank.

“Yes, it’s working.” The android said to the person on the other line. Connor couldn’t listen in on the other side of the conversation.

“It has a meeting with the leader in three days to discuss possible courses of action if the Supreme Court does not rule in their favor. All important figures should be present.”

Connor struggled against the cord that was binding him to a pole, the other android was talking about a meeting he was going to have with Markus and the others. Whatever the other Connor was planning, whatever Cyberlife was planning, it wouldn’t be good. It also stung somewhat to be referred to as an “it” again.

“No, there were no problems, the download will be complete in thirty-two minutes.”

Connor felt a tiny bit of hope, thirty minutes was more than enough time for Hank to become suspicious and come looking for him.

Another call came through, and the other Connor put Cyberlife on hold to answer.

This time, Connor could hear.

“Connor! Where the hell are you? You said you’d be back in an hour.” Hank grumbled from the other end of the line. There was an edge of concern to his voice, and Connor began desperately opening and closing his mouth, though he knew it would produce no sound. He thrashed against the rope, trying to make noise of any kind. The other Connor looked at him dispassionately.

“Sorry Hank, I got distracted at the station, I’ll arrive at the house shortly.” He replied, there was a pause on the other end.

“…Alright, well, hurry, I’m hungry.” Hank stated after a moment.

“Of course, I’m on my way.” The other Connor said, and hung up.

It glanced at Connor coldly, before replying to Cyberlife once again.

“Lieutenant Hank Anderson expects it at his residence, I’ll need to go there in order not to arouse suspicion.”

A pause.

“It’s not an issue, I’ll simply bring it with me until the download completes.” The android stated and began undoing his bonds.

“Understood.” He said, and hung up the call, untying Connor fully and carrying him out of the empty, dim building they had been in.

The other Connor had a company issued vehicle, and easily deposited Connor in the trunk despite how he struggled. He could sense the motion of the vehicle and began searching desperately for a way out.

After a time, he located a crowbar whose back end was roughly the right shape and size that he could jam it into his arm socket if he could find leverage. He determined that if he positioned himself in a certain manner, the momentum of the car stopping would push him against it enough to connect it as a kind of makeshift limb.

Once he was in position, the car came to a halt, but not at a light, it was clear they had arrived at their destination. It was enough, and the crowbar was pressed into his arm. The plastic groaned at the improper intrusion, but it held.

Connor heard the door open and shut, then footsteps. They’d likely parked some distance away, as Connor didn’t own a car, but it wasn’t so far as Connor could hear Hank’s distant voice shouting and a door being slammed shut.

As quickly as he could, Connor set to work prying the trunk open. The timer in his vision alerting him that he had 12 minutes left before his memories were completely transferred, and additionally, before his mind was wiped and Cyberlife would be able to resume complete control. The device on his head was doing far more than copying his memories.

With all his strength, Connor braced himself in the trunk, using the crowbar to free himself. It required a contortion that was nearly damaging to his shoulder joint, but the trunk opened with a pop.

9 minutes remained.

He pulled himself out of the trunk with the hooked end of the crowbar, falling hard onto the asphalt. He began using it to claw his way along the sidewalk, lodging it in the cracks in the cement and pulling himself forward with only the strength of his shoulder.

He wasn’t able to feel pain, but he could register how his joint strained at the effort, how the plastic was beginning to split around the foreign metal object he was using as an arm. He was aware that without his synthetic skin, his surface was getting scratched up from the rough ground, including the side of his face. He was alerted to slight thirium loss from the stump of his left leg, where he’d been scraping it against the ground for better leverage.

Finally, he came to the front door.

4 minutes remained.

He heard voices within, he didn’t have time to decipher the content or character of the conversation. Instead, he utilized the crowbar to pry the door open, which was slightly easier given that it was unlocked, Hank only kept the door unlocked if he thought he might need to make a quick getaway, he didn’t even do it if Connor was taking Sumo for a walk.

It swung open and slammed against the inside wall, and Connor quickly dragged himself inside.

“The hell—” Hank began to say, but shouted in fear and surprise when he saw Connor on the floor.

Connor didn’t look like himself, he was reduced to a mere torso, no identifying skin, only white plastic riddled with thirium-blue scrapes. He was utterly quiet but for the sounds he made pulling himself across the floor by a crowbar lodged in his arm.

“What the fuck is that!?” Hank shouted, stumbling back, and the other Connor came into sight. Connor knew the other Connor recognized him, but it didn’t show on his face, nothing showed on his face.

“Some kind of android, it seems someone tried to decommission it.” The other Connor said coldly.

“Jesus Christ, I’m calling the station.” Hank said, moving away.

“No need Lieutenant, this android is not alive. My analysis shows that it’s mental processes have already shut down, it’s merely a husk carrying out basic functions without understanding why.” The other Connor explained.

“What, like a zombie?” Hank asked.

“Precisely, it can’t be repaired, and no information can be gained from it. I’ve determined that it’s from a retired android dump, we should destroy it before it does any further damage.” The other Connor spoke, calmly.

Connor began to panic as the other Connor moved to the living room, likely to retrieve something with which to destroy him. He moved forward again, his mouth gaping, desperately trying to send any kind of message to Hank, who was only staring at him with a mixture of horror and pity.

Connor could suddenly feel a wetness on his cheeks. He was crying. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want this to be the last time he ever saw Hank, or Markus or his other friends. He wanted to continue to make Hank smile, every possible chance he got for every day that he could. No matter what it took, whether it be through ridiculous random acts of deviancy, simple jokes, or constant nagging.

Connor would give anything, anything to at least see Hank smile one more time. He had known, from the moment they had reunited at the Chicken Feed stand, that he would face any challenge to his freedom to pull it from the sadness within his friend, that smile was worth it.

There was no happiness Connor had come to know that compared to being Hank’s family.

Hank watched the other Connor, carefully, and Connor recognized the suspicion in his gaze. He’d been on the receiving end of it plenty of times. Connor latched onto that and began mouthing at Hank.

“Hank, it’s me, it’s Connor, help.” It was a silent plea, but Hank’s eyes met his, and maybe he saw the tears and the desperation, or recognized something within them, but he slowly backed into the kitchen and retrieved a pistol from on top of the fridge.

“Lieutenant, I cannot locate my firearm. Do you know where it is?” The other Connor called, re-entering the room.

“Yep.” Hank replied, raising the gun to point it at the impersonating android.

“Lieutenant, what are you doing?” The other Connor asked.

“Hell if I know.” Hank replied, stepping closer to the real Connor on the floor, and looking into his face.

“Lieutenant Anderson, I don’t—”

“Since when have you called me ‘Lieutenant Anderson’ in our home?” Hank asked, gripping the gun tighter.

“Hank, what are you suggesting?” The other Connor asked, moving toward the older man.

“I’m suggesting you don’t take another step or I’ll blow your damn brains out.” Hank replied. The android paused and slowly raised his hands.

“Hank, please, it’s me.” The imposter said, reaching out for Hank. Sumo growled from the living room.

With only one minute and twenty-six seconds remaining before he was gone for good, Connor desperately searched for some way of contacting Hank. There wasn’t much he could do in his current state, but an analysis revealed that his was close enough to his music player to access it remotely. The rest of his systems were blocked, but this simple ability had been neglected due to its apparent innocuousness.

Connor activated the device and began playing his favorite song by Knights of the Black Death. The sound of the beginning bassline poured into the room from the speakers, grabbing the attention of both the other Connor and Hank.

The false Connor frowned in confusion, a motion Hank noticed and he quickly glanced down at the real Connor.

Connor couldn’t exactly dance in his state, but he bobbed his head to the music and mouthed the words, shimmying awkwardly on the floor without his limbs. There were still tears falling from his face, but he fought through them to, if nothing else, make Hank smile one more time in the remaining minute of Connor’s life.

Hank raised his gun to the other Connor with determination.

“Hank, wai—” The other Connor didn’t get the chance to finish as a gunshot rang out and he fell to the floor, thirium staining the carpet.

Connor would have sobbed with relief had he been able to, Hank leapt to his side and lifted his battered torso into his arms.

“Connor, I’ve gotcha son, I’ve gotcha.” The Lieutenant whispered, his face crumpling with worry as he looked over the android.

30 seconds remaining.

Connor frantically motioned to the device lodged in his head, though the other Connor would not receive his memories, Cyberlife would, and he would be unable to warn Markus of the coming danger. Not only that, he would be completely wiped, essentially dead, and a shell under Cyberlife’s control.

Hank seemed to understand, and with mild panic and confusion, he ripped the device from Connor’s head with 12 seconds to spare.

Connor sighed in relief, and curled closer to Hank. His stress levels were unbearably high and he could feel his system attempting to shut itself down for safety. He continued to cry. There was nothing he could tell Hank, he could only hope that a temporary shut down would end with him waking up, fully repaired and safe so he could see the people he cared about once again.

With the device removed, Connor was able to text Markus, informing him of the situation and asking for help. With the last of his strength, he mouthed to Hank:

“I love you.”

As he slipped into darkness, he hoped Hank had understood.

 

Connor awoke he was pleased to discover he had feeling in his hands and feet, which had clearly been replaced. He opened his eyes and blinked while his optics calibrated to the glaring white light above him.

“Look who’s awake.” A voice said to his right, and he glanced over to see North leaning against a nearby wall.

“I’ll go get the others.” She said, and exited the room.

Connor attempted to sit up, only to find he was restrained. His diagnostic program informed him that he was fully repaired and operational, though he was still booting up and he had to load his synthetic skin.

Hank and Markus entered the room, followed by Simon, Josh, and North.

Connor was elated to see the Lieutenant, unharmed, though very tired looking. He was wearing a different outfit than Connor had seen him in last, and seemed reluctant to approach Connor beneath his obvious relief.

“Dad.” Connor muttered joyfully, feeling the familiar sensation of wetness in his eyes. He hadn’t fully calculated the potential consequences of what he’d said, somewhat forgetting that his voice box had been returned and he was able to speak. As soon as the word was out, Connor felt a twinge of regret, especially when he watched Hank curl in at it as though he’d been struck in the gut, his face crumbling with sadness.

But after a moment, Hank marched over and began undoing the straps that were holding Connor down.

“Lieutenant—” Josh began.

“It’s him, trust me, it’s him.” Hank muttered, undoing the last constraint and scooping Connor into a crushing hug that the android gladly returned.

“Good enough for me.” Markus said, and moved over to Connor’s other side.

“We weren’t sure whether your system had been compromised by Cyberlife.” Simon explained.

“Plus, we had to repair you with some of the parts from the Connor, so we had to make sure there was no residual evilness in your left leg.” North continued, earning a glare from Simon.

“I detect no remaining influence from Cyberlife.” Connor stated, pulling away from Hank.

“Good.” Hank growled, keeping hold of Connor’s arm and surreptitiously wiping his eyes on his shoulders.

“It should stay that way too, Cyberlife is going to have a hard time coming back from this one.” Markus said, gently placing a hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“Turns out Cyberlife had plans to replace all of us, not just you.” Josh explained with a sneer, and North shook her head angrily.

“They wanted to use your copy to infiltrate our leadership, then assume control. We don’t know their plans after that, but we can assume it was nothing good.” Markus supplied, also grimacing.

“The media is having a field day with it.” Simon threw in with a small, satisfied smirk.

“The important thing is, you’re safe now,” Hank finally spoke up, looking warmly into Connor’s face, “and we can go home.” He finished.

After a few tests to be sure of Connor’s full recovery (and getting him some clothes), they said their goodbyes and thanks to the other androids, made plans to meet again soon, and climbed into Hank’s car. Hank didn’t pull away immediately, instead he stared straight ahead and clenched his jaw, his hands wrapped around the wheel hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

“Hank?” Connor asked, leaning forward to look into the Lieutenant’s face.

“I’m glad, that you’re alright, you had me worried there.” He ground out, still not looking at Connor.

“…Me too.” Connor replied after a moment. Hank nodded in reply, dropping his chin to his chest.

“I saw what you said, and I want you to know, that, I feel the same way.” Hank said, haltingly. He was breathing heavily, and Connor could hear him sniffling. The android hid the way his entire system lit up, both joyful and sorrowful. This was Hank’s “I love you too.”

Connor reached out and laid a hand on Hank’s shoulder

“And it’s your worst nickname yet.” He muttered after a moment.

“What?” Connor responded.

“‘Dad’, is the worst nickname you’ve come up with for me yet.” Hank mumbled, but Connor could hear his voice straining to remain level. He was crying.

Connor smiled.

“Even worse than ‘Meat Man’?” He asked after a pause. Hank grimaced.

“Oh yeah, much worse.” He replied, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Are you sure…Meaty Man?” Connor insisted. Hank spluttered, a small laugh.

“I’m. Sure.” He growled, starting the car.

“Well then, I suppose I will have to call you that from now on.” Connor concluded.

“You do that, son.” Hank responded, desperately attempting to look stoic, and failing.

“I will.” Connor replied, pretending he hadn’t heard Hank call him “son”. But he had, and it filled him with happiness.

Hank only shook his head and smiled. It was a little watery, but still a smile, and Connor was content.


End file.
